


Pine and Needles

by PrincessDianaArtemis



Series: Ineffable Husbands AU Week [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Chef Anthony J. Crowley, Crowley & Anathema Device Friendship, Crowley can speak Spanish, Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Crowley's Name is Anthony (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands AU Week, Latina Anathema Device, M/M, Matchmaker Anathema Device, Matchmaker Crowley, Matchmaker Newt, Mutual Pining, Pining Aziraphale (Good Omens), Pining Crowley (Good Omens), Strong Aziraphale (Good Omens), Tattoo Artist Aziraphale (Good Omens), Tattooed Aziraphale (Good Omens), Thirsty Aziraphale (Good Omens), forearms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:55:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26563960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessDianaArtemis/pseuds/PrincessDianaArtemis
Summary: All Crowley wanted to do was accompany Anathema to get her tattoo and then get the hell out. What he didn't expect was to come across the most beautiful man on earth and get dragged into planning another tattoo at his hands.Now, how does he find a way to get close to this angel when all they have in common is a tattoo that Crowley never intends to get?
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale (Good Omens) & Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Anathema Device
Series: Ineffable Husbands AU Week [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1931962
Comments: 34
Kudos: 179





	1. Chapter 1

If it were a choice between taking a double-decker into the midst of London or accompanying his best friend into the tattoo parlor, Crowley would’ve put up with the annoying Americans. But  _ his  _ annoying American begged and pleaded until he gave up and promised to go with her to get her newest tattoo.

“It won’t even take long,” Anathema said, pulling Crowley through the crowds. “You’re not far from home  _ and  _ I brought headphones so you won’t even hear anything.”

Crowley gave a little huff, “Fine. Let’s get this over with. The sooner you get ink into your body, the sooner I can get the hell out.”

Anathema chuckled, “Considering the bad-boy aura you try to present, it’s funny that you get so freaked out about a little thing like a tattoo needle.”

“Oi, those things’re freaky,” said Crowley. “They buzz like they’re an insect trying to get into your skin.”

That just made Anathema’s laughter louder as they entered the little shop. 

At the counter stood a man that looked like he should be working anywhere other than a tattoo parlor. He fixed the crooked pair of glasses higher on his nose as the pair approached the desk and shot them a shaky smile. 

“Erm, afternoon,” the man - the name-tag declared him to be a Newt - said. “Welcome to Guardian’s Gate - are you both set up for an appointment?”

Anathema leaned against the counter, “Nope, just me handsome. Anathema Device. I’ve got the 1:45 with …” 

“Aziraphale,” said Newt, blushing. “Gotcha. He should be out in a minute to get you. You can have a seat and I’ll - I’ll let him know you’re hot - I mean, here. I - oh, okay, I’ll just go get him.”

Crowley laughed into his hand as the man slipped away, red-faced and fussing with his already disheveled hair, “‘Nathema, look what you did to the poor lizard.”

She shrugged and led him to the waiting area, “And what about it? He’s cute.”

“Doesn’t look like he belongs in a tattoo shop, that’s for sure,” he said, pushing his sunglasses to the apex of his nose. “But if he’s your type, I guess I won’t judge too hard.”

Anathema glared at him, “First of all, if you’d read the reviews of this place you’d have seen that  _ no one  _ that works here looks like they’d work at a tattoo parlor. Second - you’re always judging, you snake. But something tells me that  _ I’m  _ gonna have the last laugh today.”

“Oh? Did the tarot tell you something?”

She gave a non-committed hum and turned towards where Newt had just exited, tracking him like a hawk and handed her purse over to Crowley, “Here. The headphones are in there and I put a CD player with some Queen in there.”

Crowley grumbled something about being old-fashioned as he dug around the large bag for the device. He heard a voice clearing above his head and a soft voice that called out Anathema’s name, but summoned him as well.

Standing before them, like an angel descended, was a plump man with hands folded against his stomach. He was dressed in khaki pants and a white button up that was rolled up to his elbows which revealed two sleeves of tattoos that highlighted the soft, yet strong muscles there. Crowley’s mouth was agape as he followed the crisp white shirt up towards the bowtie and then to the halo of messy curls on the man’s head.

“Hello, dear, I’m Aziraphale. And you must be Anathema,” he said, reaching out a hand to shake the woman’s. “It’s a pleasure.”

Anathema, smug as a cat with cream, turned to Crowley before shaking Aziraphale’s hand, “Pleasure’s mine. This is my friend, Anthony Crowley, he’s just here to keep me company today.” 

Aziraphale turned his smile at the stunned man, hand outstretched and taking the limp extension that Crowley provided, “Hello, Anthony. You must be an exceptional friend to be here for her. Oh, what a lovely snake.”

He reached towards the little black sigil of a snake that curled near Crowley’s ear and gave it a little stroke that sent shivers down his body.

“Ngk, thanks.”

Smile never faltering, Aziraphale turned back to his client and waved her towards his room, talking specifics about her design as Crowley watched him go, eyes flickering from halo to back, to plush rear. 

_ Oh, fuck. _

-

Crowley had been trying to focus on the  _ Best of Queen _ CD that was playing in his ears and keeping him distracted from the low buzz of the tattoo gun nearby, but all he could think about was the absolute vision he’d seen earlier.

His skin still burned where the slightly calloused thumb had swept over his teenage error. Twelve years later, it finally was worth fainting and almost puking all over the tattoo artist’s shoes. He’d already googled Aziraphale’s name and meaning - of course it was an angel - and all of his artwork, taking a moment to devour every crinkle of his eyes, the tight pull of shirt around his biceps, and the pretty, shining eyes on the one picture of his on the web.

A hard shove against his shoulder broke the spell that the screen had cast. He glanced up to see Anathema, smirk still in full-effect as she tilted her head towards the counter where Newt and Aziraphale were speaking.

“Come on, el amor de tu vida awaits.”

Crowley scoffed, but jumped to his feet, shoving the headphones and player into Anathema’s purse before giving it over. 

“Amor de mi vida mi culo ardiente,” said Crowley. “Whatever your cards said, it’s not true.”

Anathema laughed, “They haven’t been wrong before.”

The two joined the employees at the counter and Crowley stumbled forward when the bright smile turned towards him.

“Newt will help you check out,” he said, “And I do hope you come to see us again. Perhaps you could come for a tattoo next, Anthony.”

Crowley’s heart stuttered, though not exactly because of the man, “Erm, yeah, right. I’ll - I’ll see that I do…I’ll consider it.”

The smile faltered for a minute and Anathema muttered something under her breath before breaking the awkward silence, “What he  _ means  _ is that he hasn’t considered getting another one. Besides, Aziraphale, he should at least get a look at your work first, right?”

Aziraphale’s smile returned full-force, “Oh. Heavens, I didn’t mean to put any pressure on your decision. But I do hope you consider us for the job. It’d be wonderful to create a matching work to that snake.”

“Ahem,” said Crowley. “Of course. I’m sure you’d be able to come up with something amazing.”

The wriggle of delight was enough for Crowley to come up with more compliments to see it again, but Anathema bumped him again, pulling him away from his thoughts.

“Well, it was a pleasure meeting you both. Hope to see you again - soon,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes at Newt who ducked his head in embarrassment.

With pleasantries exchanged, Anathema maneuvered Crowley out of the door and, when they were away from the store she tilted her head back and laughed, loud enough to make her American - and Latina - heritage proud.

“Ay, nene, you should’ve seen your face,” she said. “You’re gonna be thinking about him all week.”

A childish pout that was too out of place on his middle-aged face curled on his lips, “No, I’m not. Honestly, ‘Nathema, you should’ve been more worried about your little lizard boy.”

“I was,” she said with a content smile. “I wrote my number on the receipt.”

-

Despite the denial he gave Anathema, Crowley did find himself thinking about the artist for the next following days. He lived not too far from the shop, and worked even closer, but tried not to think too much about the pretty, sparkling, kaleidoscope eyes or the smile that had been seared into his heart. 

But he’d still find himself falling into a rabbithole of images on social media, trying to find any pictures of Aziraphale among the pictures of his art. The only one he’d found, other than his headshot on the website, made his heart sink at the sight of the beautiful, elegant woman on one arm and the muscular, supermodel man on the other.

Regardless of which one was his date, he was obviously taken by one of the two - if not both.

Rejected, Crowley went back to sweeping the dirt out of the kitchen and nursed his hurting heart. 

Anathema’s call four days afterwards should’ve been a sign, but he didn’t think too much of it.

“What is it now, Anathema? Did the tattoo get infected? Or did you decide that you just need more ink in your skin?”

The woman hissed from the other end of the line, “Oooh, who spilled their soup all over you, querido? And no, it’s all fine. I just need a favor from you.”

Crowley scoffed, “At this point, you’re almost indebted to me.”

“We’ll put it on the tab and I’ll do a free reading for you.”

He rolled his eyes, “What do you need?”

“So, I kinda left my mother’s charm bracelet at the tattoo parlor the other day and I can’t swing by to get it anytime soon. Do you mind picking it up for me?”

Warning bells went off in his head as he pulled the phone away from his ear to frown at it. Anathema never took off that bracelet and she definitely wouldn’t have forgotten it considering the history it held. 

“Why don’t you get lizard boy to bring it to you on your next date?”

She huffed, “Because he hasn’t got a clue and asked me out yet. You wouldn't also be able to get him to realize that, too?”

“That’s two favors, Anathema,” he said. “But I’ll go. When are you coming back into town?”

“Next weekend. Just hold onto it for me until then. Oh! Take some of your petit fours, Aziraphale might’ve mentioned something about liking sweet things,” said Anathema. 

“ _ Bye _ Anathema.”

“Bye dulzura.”

Despite shutting her down, Crowley packed up a little container of petit fours and fixed his hair before easing down the street. Jitters brought a little bounce up his leg that got worse as he spotted the sign of the shop. 

“You’re a big boy, Anthony,” he mumbled to himself. “Just go in there, harass the lizard, pick up the bracelet and get the hell out of there  _ without  _ making a fool of yourself. Yeah,” his shoulders squared, “you can do this.”

The little bell at the door brought Newt’s head up and he smiled, a large spread that made him look a little more lizard like, “Oh, hey - Anthony, right?”

Crowley nodded, “Tha’s right. My friend, Anathema - you remember, tall, real pretty, was hitting on you?” He stopped for a second to process the red face, “Yeah, well she forgot her bracelet here and sent me to pick it up.”

“R-right,” said Newt, rubbing the back of his neck. “Um, I think Aziraphale’s been holding it in his room. You can go right in, he’s not seeing anyone for another hour.”

Heart speeding up, Crowley turned to the open door along the wall. He swallowed against the knot at his throat, “Ah, okay. Oh, lizard - ”

“It’s Newt.”

“ - do us both a favor and call Anathema to ask her on a date. Otherwise I’ll never hear the end of it, yeah?”

Newt’s spluttering punctuated his steps towards Aziraphale’s door and he came to a dead stop when he saw the man lit up from behind by the really great lighting in the room. And before the little sound that crawled up his throat escaped he knocked on the door.

Aziraphale turned around, tiny reading glasses askew on his nose and he lit up when he noticed who was at the door, “Anthony, dearest, I’m so sorry I didn’t hear you. Come in, please. Anathema told me to expect you.”

Crowley came in on wobbly legs and sat in the chair that Aziraphale gestured him towards. It was only after he sat down that he noticed it was the tattooing chair and his face paled. 

“It’s nice to see you dear,” said Aziraphale, spinning around in his chair to fully face him. He slid the glasses off, “I noticed the bracelet almost right away but I felt it was wrong to call her if she’d given the number to dear Newton, not me.”

“Pfft, that boy doesn’t even know what to do with that number,” Crowley said. “I, erm, Anathema mentioned something about you liking sweets so I brought you some - some petit fours from the restaurant.”

If possible, Aziraphale brightened more as he took the container from Crowley, “Thank you, dear. I have been looking forward to this since Anathema said you ran a restaurant. Ah, I should get you her bracelet.”

He handed the bracelet over with one hand as his fingers popped the lid off and he plucked a pastry out.

“I really hope you like it, it’s one of my specialties,” Crowley said and, as he slipped the bracelet into his pocket, almost choking as he heard the delighted moan from the only other person in the room. Behind his glasses, his eyes widened and took in the closed eyes and stretched neck of the artist before him as he savored the pastry. Mouth suddenly dry, Crowley couldn’t tear his eyes away from Aziraphale as the man slowly came to and wiped the flakes off his mouth.

“Oh,  _ Anthony _ ,” he said in a tone that brought heat throughout Crowley’s body. “These are absolutely scrumptious. I should go to your restaurant.”

_ He’s trying to kill me. Maybe this is hell and I’m just being punished _ . Crowley thought as he tried to form words, “I’d love that, angel. You can even bring a friend - or a girlfriend - or a boyfriend.”

Aziraphale shot him a look, hazel eyes twinking, “None of that for me, dear. Just a lonely old man, but maybe you would keep me company. I’d love for you to be able to talk to me about your favorite dishes.”

A little part of Crowley’s brain did a little fist pump, “Swing by anytime, I’ll make time - and the special - just for you.”

“Oh,” said Aziraphale, giving a happy wiggle. “And we can talk about a new design for a tattoo while we’re at it - if you’re still interested, that is.”

Crowley’s heart plummeted, “R-right. Well, I should get back to the restaurant. Swing by when you have the chance and we’ll - we’ll chat. Tell Newt to give Anathema a call.”

“Of course, dear. I’ll see you soon.”

-

For the next few weeks, Crowley would stop by with something sweet for Aziraphale, threaten Newt to call Anathema and put him out of his misery, and then skedaddle before the artist could pin him down to talk about his hypothetical next tattoo.

That is, until he walked out of the kitchen and saw an angel sitting in a booth, smiling towards the kitchen doors as if expecting him.

“Ngk, angel. I wasn’t expecting you,” he said, brushing his hair back and trying to make it presentable. “Did you - did you enjoy your meal?”

“Oh, yes,” Aziraphale answered. “Just waiting for dessert and another glass of wine. Everything was delectable, darling. Please, sit, join me.”

“I don’t usually make a habit of sitting with the diners,” Crowley said, a smile teasing his lips. “But how can I refuse such great company? Wait here. I’ll get us a wine even better than whatever it was you were having.”

When he returned with the fanciest bottle of wine in the restaurant - one that he’d refused to even mention on the carte - he found Aziraphale humming around a bite of raspberry cheesecake and had to take a breath to steady himself before taking a seat.

“Good?”

Aziraphale’s eyelashes fluttered as he came back to, “Heavenly.”

Crowley muttered something along the lines of  _ ‘not as heavenly as you _ ’ before popping open the wine and pouring them both a generous amount, “Drink up. I’ve been waiting for the right type of connoisseur to open this one up.”

He noticed the blush that dipped down Aziraphale’s face and towards the buttoned up collar and wanted nothing more than to follow it further, instead he chose to lift his gaze back up to the sparkling eyes and toast.

“To angelic friends visiting out of nowhere.”

“To gorgeous serpents and their delicious food,” replied Aziraphale. After a sip, he gave a thoughtful hum before pulling a sketchbook up from beside him. “Come. I have a few sketches to show you. Ideas I’ve thought of for your next work.”

_ Oh.  _ Crowley’s heart plummeted.  _ That’s right. He only puts up with you because you’re a potential client. _

Aziraphale showed him sketches of snakes wrapped around flowers, one with ebony wings, and then a solitary pair of wings, little sketches of his favorite flowers - gloxinias - and a few more of constellations. A little furrow formed between his eyebrows as he realized - 

“You have at least one for each of my favorite things,” he said, then raised his gaze to meet the now flustered artist. “You - you’ve been paying attention.”

“Honestly, my dear, did you think I wouldn’t?” asked Aziraphale, fingers twirling the ring on his pinky. “Everything about you is so fascinating - I just wanted to be able to spend some time with you and - oh, I’m an embarrassing old man. All you wanted was to get a tattoo and I went ahead and - ” 

“I don’t want a tattoo,” Crowley interrupted, his turn to blush when Aziraphale’s eyes turned to him. “I’m afraid of needles. This one,” he pointed to the snake, “was my first and last. Never again. I just - I didn’t want you to send me away.”

A soft hand landed over his and he followed it to Aziraphale’s soft smile, “Never, dear. I love spending time with you - wouldn’t mind spending more.”

Crowley returned the smile, “You just want me for my cooking.”

An affirmative hum escaped from Aziraphale, but the thumb rubbing over his hand said otherwise, “Perhaps. But maybe next time you cook for me it can be…a date?”

If possible, Crowley’s smile widened, “How’s your weekend looking?”

“Nothing I can’t reschedule.”

“Then it’s a date.”

“It’s a date.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Couple of missing scenes from the first chapter with some of Azirpahale's insight on things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to do my best to get back in the groove.

The bell jingled the departure of the latest customers and Newt took the opportunity to send a sly smile over at his boss and friend.

“Very smooth, Azi,” he said, pushing his glasses up to see the blush better. “Maybe next time you can just come out and say that you want to put your hands all over him.”

Aziraphale’s fair face turned darker, his hands fidgeting with his bowtie with nervous fingers.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Newton,” he said. “And maybe _you_ should be paying more attention to what’s right in front of you.”

Newt frowned, then looked down at the receipt where their client - Anathema - had signed, left her tip, along with her phone number and a winky face. His own face flushed as Aziraphale’s heavy hand landed on his shoulder.

“Call the girl. Heaven knows that this might be the only chance you get.”

“Ha ha. Maybe I will call her - and see if she’ll get me her friend’s number for _you_.”

Aziraphale shook his head, “Dear boy, worry about getting yourself a date instead of me. I’m perfectly fine as I am.”

Fingers tapping over the receipt, Newt gave him a final comment, “Yeah. Okay. And maybe your siblings will stop trying to set you up with that Phony - I mean Mr. LePhon. Unless, you _do_ want to date that slime ball.”

The barely repressed shudder was enough to bring the smile back to Newt’s face, “Look, Azi. The only reason I’m sticking my nose into this is because I want you to be happy. And I think he likes you too.”

“He doesn’t want to get a tattoo, something tells me he’s not all that impressed with me,” said Aziraphale. “I’m much too soft for someone as - cool and aloof like Mr. Crowley. Now, enough of this. I’m going to wipe down the chair and will you send the Sarge back when he’s sober enough.”

Newt sighed, “Will do.”

He looked down at the number on the receipt and gave it a tap. Maybe he should give her a call.

A few hours later, the choice was taken away from him.

“Guardian’s Gate Tattoos, this is Newt. How can I help you?”

“Newt,” the voice said in a dangerous purr that set his face aflame. “It’s Anathema, I was there earlier to get a tattoo.”

He stammered for a solid minute before he eked out a ‘yep’ and she continued with a dramatic sigh.

“It seems I left my mother’s charm bracelet in Aziraphale’s basket,” she said. “And I won’t be in town until next weekend but — I’m hoping my friend, Crowley can swing by and pick it up for me.”

Newt’s nerves melted and he glanced around, noticing that the only person left was the Sarge’s wife, Tracy, who wouldn’t rat him out if he played matchmaker to his boss.

“You know, Aziraphale takes Mondays off to run his other business - but he’ll be back on Tuesday and knowing him, he’ll want to hold on to the bracelet to make sure it gets in good hands,” he said, the smile widening on his face. “And - well, look at that, he doesn’t have any appointments Tuesday at 2pm.”

She laughed, “Newt, is this the beginning of a beautiful friendship in which we try to get our friends’ heads out of their asses?”

“Absolutely.”

“And - is there anything else you might be wanting?”

Newt blushed again, noticing that Tracy’s eyes now had travelled over to him, “Not at the moment. I’ll text you later with more information.”

A little hmph and Anathema agreed, hanging up without a proper farewell.

Tracy for her part just turned the page of her magazine with a spit-wetted finger, “That’s not the way to get a girlfriend Duckie. I need you to buck up and ask her out.”

~~O~~

Aziraphale didn’t find it odd that on this Tuesday afternoon there was no traffic through the shop. He’d heard Scarlet talking with a customer — a piercing he’d rather not question the mechanics to — and settled in his now room to sketch.

The parchment-like paper of the sketchbook was far from empty. Ideas from the different consults he’d had over the weekend and then, as he turned the page, a familiar angular face that had been etched into his mind.

When Newt had told him that Anathema wouldn’t be able to swing by and pick up the bracelet, but that she would be sending Crowley in her stead, he’d found himself thinking harder about the handsome man with his tapered waist and delicate features that looked like they needed nothing more than to be wrapped in soft blankets and —

And he’d lost track of reality. Looking down at the once blank page, he found a drawing of wide, expressive eyes softened with something he hadn’t seen yet.

The knock on his door brought him around to face the man in question, lovelier than his imagination could’ve conjured, with a fetching blush on his arching cheekbones.

“Anthony, dearest, I’m so sorry I didn’t hear you. Come in, please. Anathema told me to expect you.”

He’d beat himself up for calling him ‘dearest’ after he stopped paying attention to the swaggering steps and the comfortable sprawl that had him taking up most of the tattooing chair. He was unfairly attractive.

Bracing himself for the onslaught of beauty he’d be facing, Aziraphale spun in his chair and slipped off his glasses, “It’s nice to see you dear. I noticed the bracelet almost right away — but I felt it was wrong to call her if she’d given the number to dear Newton, not me.”

“Pfft, that boy doesn’t even know what to do with that number,” Crowley said, a laugh slipping out of his mouth before he turned his gaze towards the box in his lap. “I, erm, Anathema mentioned something about you liking sweets so I brought you some - some petit fours from the restaurant.”

Crowley held the container out and Aziraphale felt his smile spreading till his cheeks hurt, “Thank you, dear. I have been looking forward to this since Anathema said you ran a restaurant. Ah, I should get you her bracelet.”

He handed the bracelet over with one hand while he popped the lid off and plucked a pastry out with the other.

“I really hope you like it, it’s one of my specialties,” he heard Crowley said as he took a bite of the first little morsel.

A moan bubbled out of his mouth as the sweetness burst in his mouth, the perfect combination of flavor that he rolled around and reveled in. He tipped his head back, eyes closing as he picked out every flavor — vanilla, hazelnut, and just a dash of something a little spicy. Crowley incarnate wrapped in a scrumptious sweet.

He opened his eyes and wiped the flakes off his mouth, “Oh, _Anthony_. These are absolutely scrumptious. I should go to your restaurant.”

Across from him, Crowley’s mouth opened and closed, fishing for words while he licked the remaining sweet from the corners of his mouth.

“I’d love that, angel. You can even bring a friend, or a girlfriend…or a boyfriend.”

Aziraphale’s heart stuttered and he scanned over the lanky, sprawled body, suddenly hoping that this delicious man was implying what he thought he was,“None of that for me, dear. Just a lonely old man,” he hesitated, eyes fluttering ,”but maybe you would keep me company. I’d love for you to be able to talk to me about your favorite dishes.”

A tempestuous smile curled those slim lips and Aziraphale’s stomach swooped, “Swing by anytime, I’ll make time — and the special — just for you.”

“Oh,” he said, giving a happy wiggle. “And we can talk about a new design for a tattoo while we’re at it - if you’re still interested, that is.”

For a moment, he saw the smile waver, but the man kept his cool and he bounced back on his feet — an almost graceful move had he not almost slipped, “R-right. Well, I should get back to the restaurant. Swing by when you have the chance and we’ll — we’ll chat. Tell Newt to give Anathema a call.”

“Of course, dear. I’ll see you soon.”

Aziraphale watched him walk away, following the curve of his spine towards the pert arse in those tight pants. He took another petit four out and took a bite, pressing the sugar against his teeth and wondering if the man would taste as sweet.

~~O~~

Aziraphale took a deep breath into the little box of pain au chocolat that Crowley had brought on his next visit. It was a quiet Friday morning, before Crowley needed to prep for the lunch rush and way before any of Aziraphale’s clients arrived. And he prepared a cup of coffee for his companion and a cup of cocoa for himself.

“Another specialty?”

Crowley smiled, “Nah, made this one just for you. Figured you might want a change from the array of flavors from the petit fours. Did the lizard call my best friend yet?”

He gave a little huff as he sat down, placing the mugs down, “Of course not. That boy is so anxious that he’ll have an aneurysm before he calls. Honestly, it might be best for Anathema to take the reins here.”

“But it’s so much fun to bother him,” said Crowley, pouting, before it melted with his laughter. “Alright, angel, I’m curious — how did you get into tattooing?”

This led to a half-hour talk about his history — black sheep of the family, brother a business mogul, sister a military leader, and him the queer, artistic bookworm of the family.

“They’re supportive…in their own way.”

Then that led to another conversation of each of his tattoos. He pretended not to notice the hard bob of Crowley’s Adam’s apple and the shifting in his chair as he unclasped his shirt at the wrists and pulled the sleeves up to reveal his forearms before detailing the artwork on his arms: the Japanese blossoms from an artist in Japan, the Henna inspired patterns on his forearm by an Indian artist, his favorite quote from Oscar Wilde and the sword that was his first tattoo.

“Any others?” Asked Crowley, eyes scanning over the width of his chest.

Aziraphale chuckled, eyes hooded as he leant forward and tracked the tongue that whet the lips across from him, “I have a few on my upper arms, and one that runs down my side, and some on my back — including a set of wings.”

“A real angel.”

“Hardly.”

But the minute Aziraphale mentioned planning for Crowley’s next tattoos, Crowley changed the subject to something safer. It was this way that the man learned about his forbidden fruit. The way his face lit up when he talked about the food he’d cook at the restaurants, or the dreamy, far-off expression as he mentioned the stars and planets with a wistfulness of someone who wanted to reach for them. Of even when he brought a beautiful plant to liven up the waiting room of the parlor and spent an hour gushing about plants before remembering he was meant to be prepping for dinner.

These were the things he poured over in his sketchbooks — snakes and flowers (gloxinias had been opened in multiple books for references — Crowley’s favorite) and constellations and star patterns that the man had spent meetings pouring over.

“Can you do me a favor, Newt?”

Newt’s wide and earnest expression turned to him, “Of course, Azi. What’d’ya need?”

“Use your masterful power of persuasion on Anathema and see what time Crowley’s done at work tonight. I think it’s my turn to surprise him.”

“How’d — I don’t know what — Aziraphale, your implicat—”

Aziraphale’s eyebrow raised, “I know you’ve been texting Anathema on anything except asking that poor girl on a date. So, buck up and ask. Her. Out.”

“Are you going to take your own advice?”

“As a matter of fact,” said Aziraphale, squaring his shoulders. “Yes, I am. Now, get to it. I want to hurry home and change before heading to the restaurant.”

~~O~~

Aziraphale found a table close to the kitchen, something most people avoided, but he had the best seat in the house as his favorite sight walked out of the swinging doors. He was out of his usual outfit, with his chef’s coat over his arm and a plain black t-shirt on. His sinfully tight pants were the only things that remained the same. He smiled as Crowley looked over and paused.

He raised his glass in greeting and it started Crowley back up.

“Ngk, angel. I wasn’t expecting you,” he said, brushing his hair back and disheveling it even more than before — a beautiful disarray. “Did you - did you enjoy your meal?”

“Oh, yes,” Aziraphale answered, tearing his eyes away from the distracting corners and edges. “Just waiting for dessert and another glass of wine. Everything was delectable, darling. Please, sit, join me.”

“I don’t usually make a habit of sitting with the diners,” Crowley said, a smile teasing his lips. “But how can I refuse such great company? Wait here. I’ll get us a wine even better than whatever it was you were having.”

Aziraphale watched him leave and brush past the waiter with his slice of raspberry cheesecake. When the man returned, he had just taken a bite of the wonderful, flaky crust.

“Good?”

Aziraphale’s eyelashes fluttered as he came back to and eyed the bottle now nestled in those long fingers, “Heavenly.”

Crowley muttered something, something he’d hope had been what he thought — ‘not as heavenly as you ’— and popped open the bottle, “Drink up. I’ve been waiting for the right type of connoisseur to open this one up.”

A blush ran down Aziraphale’s face and towards his chest and he watched the golden eyes track the color from his cheeks down his neck and another one of those thick swallows.

“To angelic friends visiting out of nowhere.”

“To gorgeous serpents and their delicious food,” replied Aziraphale, relishing in the matching color in those freckled cheeks. After a sip, he gave a thoughtful hum before pulling his sketchbook out from the bag at his side. “Come. I have a few sketches to show you. Ideas I’ve thought of for your next work.”

Aziraphale caught the slip of his smile from the corner of his eye, but showed him the litany of sketches of snakes wrapped around flowers, with ebony wings, a solitary pair of wings that matched his almost perfectly, little sketches of the bouquet of gloxinias, and the smattering of stars.

As Crowley looked, Aziraphale catalogued every shift of his expression down to the little furrow formed between his eyebrows that made the artist’s heart drop. 

“You have at least one for each of my favorite things,” he said, slowly raising his gaze to Aziraphale’s. “You - you’ve been paying attention.”

Nervous, Aziraphale started fiddling with his pinky ring, “Honestly, my dear, did you think I wouldn’t? Everything about you is so fascinating - I just wanted to be able to spend some time with you and,” he stopped, a little moue on his face, “oh, I’m an embarrassing old man. All you wanted was to get a tattoo and I went ahead and — ” 

“I don’t want a tattoo,” Crowley interrupted, the flush back on face when Aziraphale’s eyes returned to his. “I’m afraid of needles. This one,” he pointed to the snake, “was my first and last. Never again. I just - I didn’t want you to send me away.”

A weight lifted off Aziraphale’s shoulders and he reached out to take the long fingers and wrap his hand around them, “Never, dear. I love spending time with you - wouldn’t mind spending more.”

Crowley looked at him with wide eyes and a smile that followed, relaxed and teasing, “You just want me for my cooking.”

Aziraphale gave a hum of approval, but soothed the faux injury with a sweep of his thumb over the knobs of Crowley’s knuckles, “Perhaps. But maybe next time you cook for me it can be…a date?”

Crowley’s hesitant smile widened into a comfortable and bright beam, “How’s your weekend looking?”

“Nothing I can’t reschedule,” he said, returning the smile.

“Then it’s a date.”

“It’s a date.”

They clinked glasses with their free hands and a playful smile curled on Aziraphale’s face, “Now, darling. Since our _real_ date isn’t until this weekend, can we come up with a plan to put us both out of our misery on the whole Newt-Anathema deal.”

“Oh, angel,” said Crowley, wicked smile on his face. “I’ve already got a few dozen plans. Let's get to work.”


End file.
